By Steve Carr

It’s a month post-Christmas, and if I were in charge the decorations would still be up. Yes, I enjoy the holidays, but not so much that I want them never to end.

I think I’m a decent Santa. There are certainly better. But the fact is, I’m always ready for it to end. I need to get my emotions back to a place I can navigate, a place where my actions aren’t dictated by sugar plum fairies, angels, wise men and carriage rides over the hill to Grandmother’s house—because Grandmother isn’t there anymore.

In a world where I am the lone stagehand, the Christmas stage would stay up. I’d simply move to another venue come January. It’s the taking down, the boxing of memories, the children’s kindergarten popsicle ornaments, and Grandma’s faded star that throw me off. And “off” is not the best place to start the New Year.